


L U Z

by AkireMG



Series: Supernatural AU's [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Mpreg, Old Souls, i went there, like really, there's a lot here, there's magic here, what was i expecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:24:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkireMG/pseuds/AkireMG
Summary: The future looks promising and, for now, their only concern is Ian.Ian and the blood path he’s leaving behind him.(or, the story of how Mickey gave up his soul for Ian, and a little bit of his life with Garrett)





	L U Z

**Author's Note:**

> i liked this part, so im posting it  
> thans for reading, the kudos and comments! :D

Separate his soul and body wasn’t easy.

That’s one of the few things that Mickey really remembers from his old life.

When every other memory tends to be foggy and unintelligible, the moment he decided to recite the spell is almost unbelievable clear. He can still feel the dryness of his mouth, his blood running almost black inside of his veins and creating a nauseating contrast with his too pale, bordering on translucid, skin. He was sick beyond repair, living through the lasts of his hopes by clinging to them like he would any port in a storm.

He was barely human by then. His heart didn’t beat like it should. His lungs didn’t respond like they were supposed to. His stomach would turn into a black hole that swallowed everything without finding satisfaction or close so tight that nothing would go past his throat. Mickey was nothing that hardly resembled a human being. He was always tired and in pain, his head constantly under a pressure that would instantly kill a lesser man than him. And there was no medication to treat him because there wasn’t something wrong with him.

There was simply nothing left of what once was his soul, and the only way to fill the empty spaces inside of him was leaving big, throbbing holes inside Ian.

Mickey was not going to do that.

Ian was doing _so_ good, taking his meds and following a healthy routine to keep himself in check. He was studying to be an EMT, going out with men that could help him when necessary, making money to help Fiona out and making up his mind about what he wanted to do and have later in life.

He was stable and happy.

What else could Mickey ask for?

So, with that in mind, and seeing Mandy stressing herself over his health, Mickey took the decision to honor the most important of his mother’s teachings.

_Your magic_ , she had said to Mandy and Mickey, her lips kissing Mickey’s forehead and his hand caressing Mandy’s hair _, is the very essence of your soul. It’s what makes you who you are. It can be a lot of things: hate, sadness, sorrow, love… sometimes a mix of different things that define you as a person.  It’s your strength and weakness, the reason you do things, the power behind your spells. It’s everything you really are, and it’s yours. Only ever yours. Yours to protect, yours to show, yours to share or keep hidden._

And Mickey wanted to give it entirely to Ian.

Before he could no longer do anything, and his magic died alongside him, Mickey wanted to give it to Ian. Maybe it wouldn’t help at all, but his spells were once good and kept Ian far away from chaos. That’s everything Mickey ever wanted, and fuck if he was going to let anything ruin whatever chance Ian may had at getting a happy ending. They were in fucking South Side and if magic was the only thing Mickey could offer, he was going to give it without doubt.

It took Mickey three days.

First, he learnt the words in his mother’s book by heart. He read them over and over until he was sure he could repeat them in his sleep. The spells were easy to memorize because the difficult part was having the power to conjure them. Mickey had it. His mother’s blood was powerful, attribute her youngest children inherited.

Then, he made peace with the fact that he was gonna die very soon after he completed the spell; it wasn’t that hard, he had been dealing with that for some time already. It would only accelerate a process that would otherwise take many more months of constant agony to finally wear him away.

Of course, he told Mandy about his decision. It wasn’t something you did out of the blue without warning the witch you have known your whole life. Mandy wasn’t not happy –way to put her high-screaming, punching-throwing reaction—, but ended up accepting it because she didn’t really have a say in what Mickey did with his magic.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” is the only thing she commented after the first few hours of complete denial. “I know you will do it nonetheless, but I wanted to share my opinion…,” Mickey didn’t move from the chair he was seated on, looking at her briefly for he couldn’t stand the emotions with which she was watching him, “What if there’s someone else?”

Mickey frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Mandy shrugged.

“What if there’s someone else that you can love? Someone else that you can share your magic with without having to… separate your soul from your body?”

_What if there’s someone that will love you like Ian can’t?_ , she wanted to say, but didn’t because Mickey had heard that name enough times from his own lips. _What if you are giving yourself to the wrong person, Mickey?_ Because, as much as she loved –or thought she loved– Lip, she never considered giving him her magic. It was hers, her mother’s, her brother’s. It was her family’s, and no self-absorbed, near-alcoholic man was going to change that.

“Yeah, don’t think so” Mickey chuckled humorlessly in that self-deprecating way that Mandy hated so much. “And even if there is, how much will it take me to find him? I don’t have time to go looking for someone that maybe doesn’t even exits, Mandy, and that’s why I’m doing it. If I don’t hurry, I’ll die before giving it to him… before I can help him one last time.”

“You did enough for him. He’s stable now, isn’t he? Why don’t take back the magic you gave him?”

Mandy was always the selfish one of the two of them; of all the Milkovich kids, to be honest. She never had much, but, contrary to Mickey, she always made sure to never have less than that. Where Mandy would doubt before reciting a spell that wouldn’t benefit her or her brothers directly, Mickey did it for those he loved and cared for without thinking twice. The spells he used to improve Ian’s health were draining at best no matter how powerful he was, but he never hesitated before getting everything he needed to conjure them.

Mickey’s magic came mainly from love and sorrow, momentary sweetness and perpetual bitterness, just like Mandy’s and Natalya’s, but love, being a source of great power, is also one of unimaginable anguish. It was just like their luck as Malkoviches that the first time Mickey fell in love would also be the one where he lost all his magic to the man he loved.

“My magic is already rooted on his soul. If I take it out, how do you it would affect him?”

Ian would probably lose his mind for real. He wasn’t magical. His brain wasn’t wired to know when pain came from the soul and when it was from the body or mind.  Without Mickey’s magic, the blank holes in his soul would drive him slowly, but surely, to madness. That’s why witches shouldn’t share their magic that intimately with mortal non-magic beings. They simply were unable to cope with the absence of magic after having it intertwined with their mortality.

“It’s his. It’s been his since the first time I conjured a spell solely for his sake.”

Spells like the ones he conjured for Ian are stronger, more effective, but also much more draining if done repeatedly in a short time span. Mickey conjured them daily for months. Sometimes after reciting them Mickey would fall asleep and not wake up until the next sunrise. He started getting sick since then. Ian’s progressive disinterest on their relationship didn’t help a bit.  

There was only one way that could end, and there Mandy was, preparing herself for her brother’s premature death and wishing she could change his mind about the whole issue. If he were more like her maybe he would take his magic back and…

But no. Not even Mandy with all her repressed anger and thirst for retribution could imagine herself doing that to Ian.

A few weeks later, Mickey announced he was ready.

With their mother’s ring sapphire in his hand and Mandy’s love and support warming his ever-cold skin, Mickey draw sigils on the floor, lighted candles, slit his left wrist (the spell required fresh, still-warm blood, just like all soul-spells that ever existed) and chanted the spell alongside Mandy.

It was a powerful and irreversible. The moment they finished saying the words –Mandy would have nightmares of their voices intoning them together for years–, Mickey’s magic started to react to what the spell asked of it.

_I wish for you to leave me_ , the spell said to the ears that understood it, to the magic that could make it reality, _leave me like you would if I was dead. Change the reason you are here, this heart of mine, for the heart of the one I have been protecting._ Mandy heard Mickey’s blood singing with confusion and fear, all the love their mother gave them trying to comprehend why this child was asking to be left alone. _Guard him the way I would. Help him in the ways I couldn’t._

Mandy will swear until the day she dies that as soon as Mickey’s magic reacted, her mother’s voice screamed inside her head. It was the most horrifying thing he had experienced, comparable only to the feeling of her brother’s life slipping out of him like a tired breath. Hearing Natalya’s soft, careful voice screaming like she was being murdered, like someone was ripping her heart out of her chest, stuck to Mandy.

She wouldn’t be able to forget it.

Then, without having a second to ground herself, Mickey’s heart started to beat slower, his breathing getting shallow and labored, his white skin paling even more than before. He looked like death itself, but his eyes… His eyes shinned brighter that Mandy had ever seen them. They looked unreal in the amount of power they showed, electric, stunning, heart-stopping. Mickey was letting go of everything that he had left of his magic, of his mother’s memories and his never-fading love. Iggy, Mandy, Ian. The ones still alive for which he would die a thousand times.

It was then that the weight of it all fell on Mandy’s shoulders.

_Mickey was leaving._

“I’m sorry,” Mickey whispered to Mandy, that took his hands and hold them tightly, her eyes watery and her smile showing nothing but misery. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Mads, but I _can’t_ –”

“I will be fine,” she interrupted, throat tight, hands shaking around Mickey’s. “Eventually, I will be fine.”

Mickey knew she would.

She was the strongest in their family.

She was Natalya’s heir, after all.

Mickey would have loved to see her become a queen.

“I love you.”

Mandy sobbed.

“I love you, too, Mickey,” she managed to say.

Right after that, Mickey’s eyes closed, and his body slumped forwards. Mandy caught him. He was so cold, and even if she could still hear the weak beating of his heart, she knew that it was it. Her brother was gone.

Mandy held him for a long time.

Iggy found her brushing Mickey’s hair with her fingers and looking at the dazzling sapphire in Mickey’s open palm with vacant eyes. The little gem was gleaming, magic still adapting to its new permanent form. Mandy distantly thought that Mickey should have chosen a bigger one, maybe the emerald or the ruby, because this little thing could not possibly hold all her brother’s love, his powerful magic.

“What are you gonna do with it?”, Iggy asked after they laid Mickey’s body on the bed and Mandy was holding the sapphire in her hand.

Iggy had a similar glowing gem. Their mother left it to him as protection; he wasn’t magical –he wasn’t Natalya’s biological son, but she loved him like she loved the children that came from her own womb—, so she had wanted to give him something that was, something that would never fade away like she did. It wasn’t the same spell, but it held a part of Natalya’s love in it.

“It’s Ian’s,” she responded.

“Gallagher, uh?”, Iggy said, absent-minded, his eyes glued to Mickey’s still chest, his now forever-closed blue eyes. “When you gonna give it to him?”

Mandy shrugged punily.

“When I’m sure my magic is not gonna try to choke him.”

“At least you have an excuse,” Iggy put an arm around Mandy’s shoulders; she wrapped hers around his waist, “I’m gonna punch him in the face next time I see him.”

And that’s all Mandy and Iggy ever told Mickey about that day. He asked out of pure curiosity on one of those occasions his foggy memories confused and intrigued him, but his death was so fresh for Mandy and Iggy they couldn’t really go into details.

As for Mickey, next thing he knew after his eyes closed was that he was crawling out of his supposedly-eternal resting place, dirt getting under his fingernails, movements so desperate and strong it felt like just a few a seconds before he was out and looking up at the moon. It was a cold night, there was a chilling breeze caressing his skin and such a silence that he could hear his own heart beating.

Mickey loved it all immediately.

He was now a child of darkness, chosen from hundreds of thousands for the sole purpose of seeking satisfaction and the power necessary for the sake of someone’s goals. Someone without a face or voice that, regardless of their lacking presence, was deeply engraved in all creatures of the night like a feeling, a sensation that never left or lessened.

Mickey doesn’t know who’s this… _person_ , but he’s sure one day he will be fighting for them and their cause, for this second chance he got at life thanks to them. Garrett doesn’t know who it is either –no one does–, but he can feel it too, the inevitability of the moment they will go to defend them against anything, because they are together thanks to their influence and kindness, for their wish of seeing all tortured souls find happiness after death or unimaginable sorrow.

“I wonder, “Garrett says looking at the night’s sky and holding Mickey’s hand tightly, “if they are even aware of what they are doing.”

Garrett and Mickey are just two of hundreds of thousands. There are more metamorphs and creatures that fed off people’s energy –incubus and succubus, as humans love to call them—, but darkness is so strange and undefined that some think it extends to witches and werewolves and not just those that first have to die to become what they are now, like vampires and Mickey’s congeners. Garrett is walking proof of that: he didn’t die to be a wolf, he was born that way, but he feels the pull as strongly as Mickey does. In the other hand, his mother did die to give him life. Maybe it doesn’t have to be the pain or sorrow of the one in darkness, but that of the ones that love them.

“Maybe not,” Mickey opines quietly, “but does it matter?”

Garrett turns his head to look down at Mickey. The moonlight makes him look bigger that he is, more like a dangerous beast that will break every bone in your body than a compassionate man that will kiss every scar in your skin. Looks are deceiving, but Mickey has seen Garrett break bones and eat flesh, so this appearance is not so far off reality as some may think.

“No, it doesn’t,” Garrett admits. “We will fight for them even if their intentions are evil. We will fight and die and won’t care because it’s for _them_. The one that made it possible for me to find you.”

The one that brought Mickey back from the realm of Death. The one that guided Garrett through life and led him to the right places and situations to become the man he is. The man that loves and protects and gives. The man that Mickey was always meant to be with, that he won’t ever leave come hell or high water.

They are in this together until Death comes to take Mickey back; and even after that, Mickey is completely sure he will be fighting for the chance to escape and run to his husband. As for Garrett, first thing he’ll do if they are forced apart is tell Death to go fuck itself and then beg to be taken too. Being in Death’s realm doesn’t sound that bad if he gets to be with Mickey.

“There’s still so much time left for us to enjoy, though. We shouldn’t be worrying about that. Not yet, at least.”

They just had their union ceremony a few decades ago.

This person that has given them a second chance wouldn’t be so cruel as to tear them apart when they haven’t truly enjoyed the taste of their immortality.

Also, with the new development of things, their time together seems to be guaranteed.

They are going to have a child to think about now.

Garrett places a hand on Mickey’s a little bit rounded stomach, his blood yelling satisfaction and happiness at the feeling of his child growing strong inside his mate.

The future looks promising and, for now, their only concern is Ian.

Ian and the blood path he’s leaving behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> where y'all really thinking ian would not try something?  
> i really love him  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
